PLAYED BY: Jon Peckham
CHARACTER NAME: Valin Nightriver
HAIR: Brown roots with red tips.
OCCUPATION: Valin does small jobs here and there, but has no real occupation.
KNOWN SKILLS: Valin can whittle a snake for you if you find him a stick, he can do farm work, unless it involves a horse, and has mastered not tripping over his own feet. Most of the time.
BIRTHPLACE: Valin was born on a farm west of Brattsholt, a village in Clan Nightriver territory.
APPEARANCE: Wears glasses and clothing befitting a poor farmer, has one fang, and almost always has his hair up.
NOTABLE TRAITS: Only has his left fang intact, a scar on his lip above where his right fang was, wears his hair up, accent.
RELATIONSHIPS: Lilith Nightriver- Former Employer
RUMORS: “That guy once made a sandwich inside out- by accident!”
“His tooth was kicked out by a pony.”
I had come to Brattsholt a week ago, looking for work. We hadn’t ever gotten paid enough for our work, and the winter had been harsh to my family’s farm. We would need some more silver just to stay afloat. I went to look for work, and spring having just sprung, there was more than enough of it. I did every job I could find, but at the end I was told to stay put, relax, and I would be paid at some vague time in the future. Later that day, a raiding party drove everyone out of the town and set it ablaze. I hadn’t joined the group trying to defend against them. I had been spiteful about the payment and wished trouble for the town. Only later, I found out that it wasn’t just the outpost they had destroyed. The entire countryside was ransacked and burned. The farm wasn’t doing well before, but it was probably doing worse as a pile of ashes. Great Wolf’s fangs, the farm! I ran almost the whole two days home, nothing to eat, and horrible scenarios running through my mind, the worst of them constantly repeating. As I neared the property, I could tell my worst speculations had been true. Well, not my worst, at one point in the journey I had thought I would see the area completely changed, my home forgotten. It was a silly thought and I had never truly considered it. But as I stood, looking at my home, I saw plumes of smoke rising from the roof. The door had been broken in and a wall had collapsed. I didn’t want to imagine what happened to those inside. I looked to the field where we grew our wheat, trying to distract myself. It was only ash now. Looking to the right of the house, where the livestock used to be, I saw the sheep had all been slaughtered or stolen, and the chickens had escaped through a hole in the fence or had also been taken. I turned away from the scene, I couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. I don’t remember coming back to the ruins of Brattsholt, but I stand there now, trying to think in spite of the deafening silence in my mind. Even through the silence, I know that I need to leave. There is nothing left for me here.